


The Continental

by wakandan_wardog



Series: Tumblr Shenanigans [12]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - John Wick (Movies) Setting, Continental Hotel (John Wick), Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, M/M, Modern Assassins, Singer Tony Stark, character cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-18 01:45:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15474753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakandan_wardog/pseuds/wakandan_wardog
Summary: James "Winter" Barnes has been accepted into The Continental Hotel's exclusive clientele. While preparing for a job he visits the Hotel Lounge and meets the gorgeous singer, Tony Stark. The Owner's Son, the New Manager...Maybe the love of his life.





	1. Chapter 1

James is nineteen when he enters The Continental Hotel for the first time, dressed in a black suit and a charcoal shirt that hides the faint bulk of bandages wrapped around his ribs. The flatiron structure of the building makes him feel a bit at home, though the way that the valet and the doorman refuse to make eye contact sells that more than anything else. He doesn’t allow his gaze to linger, memorizing their faces and then moving on. Like so many other people, they’re cataloged in case they decide to turn on him later, but otherwise ignored. 

He steps into the wire cage of the elevator and allows the bellhop to pull it closed behind him, riding up to the lobby in solitude. Upon arrival, another bellhop appears, pulling the gate open with a slight bow. James steps past him, one bag slung over his shoulder, the other gripped in his metal hand. His guns and blades are safely stowed away, in observation of the rules of the hotel. With the suit in place and the standard looking duffle and travel case in hand, he looks like any other young businessman traveling for work. 

Then again, this is hardly just any hotel. 

Standing behind the reception counter is a somber black man in a fine suit and delicately framed spectacles. Charon, just as Howard said. 

With a faint nod to himself, James approaches the counter and produces a large golden coin, sliding the krugerrand across the glossy surface of the marble counter with a gentle nudge of his pointer finger. “Good afternoon. I have a reservation under Winter.” 

Charon looks up, his expression a professional mask of cool interest. He considers the coin and then seems to study James’s face before he inclines his head. “Welcome to the Continental Hotel, Mr. Winter. We are thrilled that your membership was accepted and you were able to visit us so soon.”

“Thank you.” James smiles faintly, returning the nod. 

“Of course, Sir. I have you staying with us for three days.”

“That is correct.” James nods, relinquishing he coin to Charon and withdrawing his hand. 

“Most excellent.” Charon retorts, in a politely pleased tone as he pockets the coin and types on his computer, handing over a key with a flourish. “Room 917.”

“Thank you.” James nods as he accepts the keys, turning away from the counter and retracing his steps back to the elevator. 

Half-way through the lobby he hears Charon’s voice raise slightly, amusement in his tone. “It is a pleasure having you stay with us, Mr. Winter.”  

James tosses a smile over his shoulder. “I am sure the pleasure is all mine.” 

“I am hoping so, Sir.” 

*

The afternoon passed by as James settled into his room and took advantage of the amenities, fetching a drink from the fridge and enjoying a shower to pass the time. As dusk fell he re-wrapped his ribs and selected a new suit, dressing carefully in the pin-check charcoal three-piece and a crisp white dress shirt. His tie is a striped silk, alternating stripes of silver and a charcoal-trimmed blue. With his hair gelled and the room key as well as a few spare coins in his pocket, he closes his room door behind him and paces gracefully through the halls to the elevator. 

Once again the cage is empty, and he closes the gate without hesitation before selecting the floor he needs. The car moves with a customary groan and a clink of the metal framework, lowering him past the lobby floor to the club access level. As soon as it halts he’s got the cagework door open and is striding through the laundry room and a boiler room without bothering to look at the workers in either. Once down a short set of stairs he reaches a dark and sharply turning hallway that leads him to a small room, dominated by a solid black door with only a closed viewing grid and a thin coin slot marring the solid surface. 

James glances over his shoulder and produces a coin from his pocket, thumbing over the gold surface before he slides it into the slot and prepares to wait. Without hesitation the viewing panel snaps open, an aged man peering out at him with narrowed brown eyes. 

James says nothing, tilting his head faintly and lifting a brow expectantly. There’s a low scoff from the other side and the viewing grate snaps shut again, the door swinging open. James ignores the humorless gatekeeper, walking into a wall of sound and movement that is the exclusive club hidden in the depths of the Continental. 

Everywhere he looks there are white marble columns, stout and strong, supporting the stately hotel above. Nearby walls are plain white plaster and stone beneath massive panels of mirrored glass, lit soft amber. The far wall is crimson curtains, lit by amber from the chandeliers above and by green bulbs stationed on the supporting structures themselves. The underside of the bar is lit in a soft rose, lined in wooden bar stools with a variety of occupants. He sees at least three bartenders as he passes, two of them are knock-out dames with brown and copper colored hair, respectively. The third is a lean-bodied blond man, but he watches James the longest, eyes narrowed thoughtfully until another patron catches his attention.

As with all things, James stows the information away, winding through the crowd as unobtrusively as possible. The live band gives him pause, four men in white jackets flanking the singer. The man set at center stage is in a sharp black suit, bow tie undone, cigarette in hand. His movements are dynamic and passionate, his voice true and sweet as he belts the lyrics. 

His dark brown hair was once slicked back with product, but now curls down over his brow, shaken loose by his performance and time spent under bright stage lights. His brown eyes are half-lidded, alluring, his mouth curling in a smile around each lyric. He shoots James a wink when he sees the man staring, and James returns a grin before weaving his way through tables and booths to a corner seat. 

He slides into a seat and smiles when the lone occupant stiffens, mutely offended at the audacity. “Howard.” 

Instantly the expression of offense is gone, a smooth smile in its place. “James, so glad to see that you took us up on our invitation.” 

“I could not refuse such hospitality.” 

“Not without offending me.” Howard gave a shark’s grin, his dark eyes glinting in the low amber light of the table. “Which is not wise.”

“No, it didn't seem to be.” James acquiesced. “So here I am.”

“A delight.” Howard murmured. “How do you find The Continental?”

“Luxurious.” James replied smoothly, glancing toward the stage and the entertainment still owning it. “An experience.”

Howard gestures for a waitress, and she bolts toward the bar with an obedient nod. “A pleasant one?”

“So far.” James gives him a distracted smile, doing his best to keep his eyes on the stage. “He’s entertaining.” 

Howard sighs, somewhat fond and exasperated all at once. “Well, he has his moments. I would offer to introduce you but it is part of our agreement that I not interrupt his sets.”  

“Do you make agreements with all your entertainment?” James can’t help the surprise in his tone, but he murmurs his thanks when the waitress appears with drinks. 

“No, but my son is afforded certain liberties in exchange for his obedience where it matters.” Howard shrugged. “The stage matters to him, and so he is indulged, in exchange for discretion in other facets of our life.”

“The singer, he’s your son?” James sets the drink down, tearing his eyes away from the enigma on stage to glance wide-eyed at the owner of the Continental. 

Howard Stark is a known power in the Underworld. He runs the Continental without interference from the High Table, and is  a king in his own right. Upsetting him is often one’s last move, particularly within his domain. 

“Yes.” Howard replies sourly, swirling his brandy. “I believe he’ll take a break after this next number, if you would like to meet him.”

“Ah, yes…” James quickly takes a swallow of his drink, relishing in the burn of the alcohol. “I would like that.” 

Howard waves an imperious hand, summoning another redhead. “Pepper, bring my son to me once he’s finished this set, would you?”

The ginger haired woman glances at Bucky and then nods. “I am sure he wouldn’t mind visiting on his break.” 

*

Twenty minutes later the band is resting, an unseen DJ playing music over the discreet sound system as the band disperses to drink and chat. The younger Stark, for his part, gives a stiff nod when Pepper catches his elbow, and accepts a drink from the dark-haired bartender before making his way to the table. 

“Father.” He murmurs, blank faced. 

“Anthony, meet the newest member of the Continental.” Howard gestures across the table, smiling at his guest. “James, I would introduce you to Anthony… My son, and our new Hades.” 

James sways to his feet, smiling and offering his right hand to shake. “James Winter.” 

“Tony.” The singer replies, giving a wicked smirk as he accepts the hold. “A pleasure, Mr. Winter.”

“And you, Hades.” James smiles, shaking his hand and then reeling him in just a little. “So you’re the new Hades.”

“My father is stepping out of the limelight, if only slightly.” Tony gives a careless shrug, stepping into James’s space happily. “Winter, so this is your first stay with us. I hope it is satisfactory, so far?”

“An excellent experience.” James smiles, letting him go with a trailing of fingertips over his calloused hand. “But yes, it is my first.”

“Well, we’ll just have to make sure that you come back now, won’t we?”

“Doll, after tonight? You couldn’t keep me away.” 


	2. Chapter 2

James is twenty-one the next time he visits what has become his favorite place, the Continental Hotel in New York. At this point, he’s visited her sister locations in India twice and France once -on various business trips- and found them lacking. True enough the buildings are equal if not even more regal, their architecture foreign but comfortable. The staff is discrete, attentive, polite, and punctual. The rules are the same, no business is conducted within. They locations are essentially the same, except for where they differ: in the most important aspect, as far as James is concerned. 

Still, the clientele are the most discreet and skilled of bounty hunters, assassins, and fixers. It would be rude to snub any of them, and bad for business once he’s outside the safety of the hotel. So James stays at the Hotels, conducts his business elsewhere, and networks when it is polite to do so. Or essential to survival to do so, whichever presents itself. 

He dines with Natasha one evening, spends the entire evening watching her warily and hoping she doesn’t agree to a contract where she kills him across the dinner table. It’s a delightful meal but grates on his nerves, and at the end of the night she smiles and kisses his cheek like she knew the whole time. One of his more harrowing experiences, he would swear it.

There’s sarcasm and a taunt present in every cell when he toasts Sam from across the bar during a different trip. For his part the former soldier smirks and shakes his head when he returns the gesture, teeth bright and laughing against his handsome face. They don’t get any closer than that, but James knows sooner or later they’ll be somewhere that things escalate; he’s rather looking forward to it. 

His last night in India he avoids getting too close to Phil and Melinda but accepts when they send a refill to his table during dinner. He toasts them with it too, offering a bland smile, it’s just the professional thing to do. All in all he would say he enjoyed his various stays, but only the polite, businesslike sense of the word. Nothing like his experience at the Continental Hotel in New York. It is for that reason that he jumps on the next opportunity to visit, books for a long weekend and packs suits so he can visit the lounge every evening. With any luck, Tony will be singing. 

James has maybe, sort of, been missing him the whole time. 

*

Charon is manning the desk once again when James arrives, his expression cool and professional. When James arrives at the desk he receives a courteous smile, the incline of the man’s head gracious. “Mr. Winter, a pleasure to see you return to us.”

“Charon.” James greets him with a polite nod of his own. “A delight to be back here.”

“You’ll recall that there is no business conducted on the grounds, Sir?” 

“Yes, I do remember.” James agrees blandly, casting a casual glance around the lobby and refusing to let his eyes fixate on the door that reads ‘Management’ to his right. “I trust my reservation came through?”

“You are always welcome, Sir.” Charon replies. “A four night stay, I have for you?”

“Assuming things go well.” James smiles, sharp and all teeth, his eyes bright but empty. “Anything else?”

“No Sir, no news here.” 

James nods, producing two coins and sliding them across the counter. “Any news on entertainment?”

“The Hellfire Band performed for the last time the previous evening.” At this Charon smiles wide, amused. “But we do have a certain singer performing with the House Band, if that is suitable.”

“Any chance I can reserve a table near the stage?” James asks, producing another coin with a flick of his hand and adding it to the stack. “I have a vested interest, you might say.” 

“I am sure I can manage for you sir.” Charon clicks at the computer and then nods, handing over a key with a smile. “Room 813 today, Sir. Your table will be held this evening, just be sure to speak with our Hostess.” 

“Thank you.”

“A pleasure, Mr. Winter, and please enjoy your stay. As always, we at the desk will be happy to assist you.”

Now there’s nothing left for James to do but make his way up to his room and wait for this evening. 

*

He’s thankful to escape the pristine quiet of his room when evening rolls around, finding comfort in the familiar pattern of the iron elevator cage and the bland rooms he must trek through to reach his destination. The protocol for access is the same, a coin in the required slot and passing a visual inspection from the Gatekeeper. The man is as dour as ever, but swings the door open and gestures James through without comment. If he weren’t so nervous about seeing Tony again he might even comment, but instead James just smooths the deep blue of his jacket and passes by the man with a polite nod.

The Hostess working the Continental Hotel’s club is as empty-eyed as a doll, polite and disinterested in a way that makes something crawl down James’s spine. She gives an unsettling smile when he steps toward her, inclining her head. “Mr. Winter, a delight to have you with us this evening. I have your table, if you will follow me?”

James nods rather than responding, following her easily as she weaves through the tangle of tables, wait staff and patrons. She takes him to a cozy table to the immediate right of the stage, mid-way between the stage itself and the offset booth that Howard used to command his business from. When James slides into his seat the ‘Reserved’ placard from the table disappears, but singular red and two white roses waiting at the place setting remain.

“Ah, Miss?” James twists his hand at the flowers and shoots her a questioning look, ignoring the spike of warning in his gut when she smiles. 

“Compliments of Hades.” She returns innocently. “The House Band will be on shortly, and someone will be along for your order. Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Winter.”

“Thanks…” He murmurs, ignoring her in favor of considering the roses that were waiting for him. 

He’s thankful it wasn’t a full dozen or even a bouquet, but the fact that there are flowers at all is a surprise. 

“Too much?” A familiar voice asks from his right and he’s jolted out of his reverie, looking up in shock.

Tony Stark stands a foot away, handsome in a black tux jacket over a white button down shirt. His hair is slicked up and back but one or two strands have already escaped, draping down over his forehead to give him a bit of a rakish air. He looks like something out of the Golden Age of Hollywood, all money and charm and eyes with lashes that are so dark and full they wouldn’t be out of place on a screen siren.

Yeah, James is just as taken with him as he was the first time they met. 

“Hades.” He breathes out, beaming wide without thinking, rising from his seat. “You?”

“Me.” Tony agrees easily, scuffing his shoe and leaning closer. “But you didn’t need to rise on my account, handsome, unless you prefer to reject a date standing. In which case, I promise to take it in good grace.”

“Reject ya?” James shakes his head, eyes wide and wondering as his hand reaches out to brush fingertips over the lapel of Tony’s jacket. “Naw. Furthest thing from my mind, honestly Doll.”

“Mmm, there you go again with pet names.” Tony sighs, lashes drifting down into a more sultry expression and the tension bleeding out of his shoulders. “Does that mean you like ‘em?”

“The flowers or your pretty threads?” James teases, tugging at the loose tail of Tony’s open bowtie. “Someone already get their hands on you?”

“I might have been nervous in the dressing room.” Tony admits, rolling his lower lip under his teeth for a moment in a bite that’s equal part nerves and sheer adorable shyness.

So maybe James is smitten, who the fuck is gonna call him out on it? He’s one of the best assassins around, let anyone talk shit, he’ll sort em out off Hotel property.

“Yeah? Might’a been?”

Dark eyes snap up to meet James’s icy gaze. “Unless Pepper hasn’t seen you? If Pepper hasn’t seen you I definitely wasn’t nervous, at all, but no one has rumpled me but me. She would tell you I’m a disaster, if she were here.”

“Ain’t seen Pepper.” James admits, reaching out to tug at the jacket. “But this looks about the furthest thing from a disaster, Baby.”

“Yeah?” Tony smirks. “What’s a disaster look like, then?” 

“Tell you what… You finish this little stage show a’yours -and yeah Doll, I’m here to listen to ya sing so you’re gettin’ up on that Stage- and then you come back to mine and I’ll show you.”

“You know what, Soldier Boy?” Tony grins, bopping up on his toes to peck at James’s mouth in a lightning fast kiss. “Deal. You got yourself a date.” 

James beams at him. “Well, hot damn… Ain’t I lucky?”

“Not yet, but you will be.” 

There are plenty of hotels in the world, but none that hold a candle to the Continental. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Birthday present to you all. 8/17 was my birthday and here is a quick Ch 2 from me in this verse!


End file.
